


Gold and Oxidized Copper

by AgentBlackwater



Series: Gold and Oxidized Copper [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bad Flirting, Drinking & Talking, M/M, alcohol use, i hate tagging things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBlackwater/pseuds/AgentBlackwater
Summary: I got terribly bored one evening so I began a wretchedly cliche story of a rather introverted university student and the adventures that ensure when he comes into contact with an esteemed student of the occult and demonic arts.Set in a fictional universe that shares some names with prominent locations.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Gold and Oxidized Copper [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942531
Kudos: 2





	1. Blue Whiskey and Red Fairies

**Author's Note:**

> Cole has managed to convince his rather introverted church-going friend to accompany him to his favourite nightclub. Being the good friend he is, Eli attends and meets some new people for the first time in a long time. This may have not been for the best.

The camera was in his face and he held his hand up, hopefully shielding himself from the flash that inevitably came and stripped his eyes of vision. The mocking laughter came and the arm that slung itself around his shoulders was more uncomfortable than the picture that was snapped of him.

“You do not look like you are about to walk into a nightclub,” his companion toyed, plucking at his shirt and tisking, “You could not have been bothered to just… wear something older or rattier? Don’t you have any band t-shirts or something?”

“No,” Eli managed back, “I don’t,” the scowl that scorned his face grew as his friend pushed him forwards across the sidewalk, “I don’t!” he hissed in defense of the playful shove. “Besides, I’m not there to have fun…”

As his companion jaunted up to walk beside him, he returned the earlier gesture and slunk an arm around Cole’s shoulders, “I am here,” he toyed, taking his other hand and prodding at his companion’s side, “to be your moral compass and ensure you don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yes,” the other whined back, “But you could at least try to blend in! You’ll be salt in a pepper shaker,” he laughed, but coldly, “Literally. Everyone’ll be wearing more black than I am and you’re in a white long-sleeve. You’re going to feel so out of place, my friend.”

“I’ll find a corner and stand in it while I… I don’t know… sit and drink kiddie cocktails?” Eli’s voice trailed as a mild sense of cold dread for the sensation of being eyeballed by a bunch of dark-clothed gothic trouble-makers.

“Eli, I promise you that you’re going to get a load of people trying to pick you up. You’ll look like you’re trying to twink your way into a bed with how white your shirt is. All innocent looking. You couldn’t even leave your cross at your flat!” Cole reached over to flick at the simplistic piece. If seen, one would imagine it around a dainty woman’s neck. The silver of the chain, so delicate in its craftsmanship and the exquisite silversmithing on such a plain and precise piece made it feel old, like an heirloom. 

The piece went untouched and instead, Eli managed to dodge the swipe of the hand, “Hey! Leave it alone,” he swatted back, “It means a lot to me!” his tone cross he sternly glowered at his friend. 

“Just can’t leave your God in the church, can you?” Cole teased.

“God is always with us,” Eli quirked back, a slight grin on his lips, “You’d know that if you attended church somewhat regularly and not when Aunt Barb drags you.”

Cole managed a gagging sound as they continued in playful bantering back and forth, carrying themselves through the streets and down the corner of Parlour and Wixfield. They knew where they were going, of course. They had walked past it before in broad daylight and Eli had gone to pick his unruly companion up from the club to walk him home safely before. Oxford didn’t have a superb nightlife. But it did have one, and one that could cater to a town or gown sort of population. They knew the strange neon flask and the neon bubbles that fizzled in the dark and obsidian of the building. “Elixir” welcomed them as they rounded a final corner and the pit of Eli’s stomach dropped.

He was an adult, of course. He was more than able to drink and be in such places with no problem. Furthermore, he had walked up to these doors many times before to meet up with a high and drunk Cole. But now that he was approaching the cobbled curb with the full intention of stepping through those two elaborate doors…

“Cole,” Eli stopped just before the rope fence, “I’m anxious,” he swallowed. Hard.

His friend looked at him and gawked briefly, for Eli’s complexion had gone terribly pale. “Hey. Hey, look at me?” Eli made quick eye contact, having been focused on the bouncer that would inevitably check the IDs they had. “Nothing is going to happen. It’s just a lot of music, people dancing, drinks, laughter. If you sit at the bar, the bartenders will keep you safe and shoo off any vultures. I promise. They can tell when someone isn’t there for the social.”

“I don’t drink, really,” Eli managed.

“But you do drink. Have one or two so you’re still a pious little church boy and then sip on some water or tonic and have a few kosher drinks, okay? Snack on some light food and just don’t stray into the dance floor and you’ll be okay,” Cole reassured, rubbing a circle into Eli’s shoulder gently. “The club is split into a few sections. Stay out of the closed booths, stay clear of the dance floor, and stick to the bar and the walls and hang out with the other observers. They are probably as unenthused to be there as you are… usually,” he managed with a weak smile.

Eli looked almost desperate as he watched a group of four girls slink past the bouncer after he glanced at each card they held out with a sense of annoyance. “They are so underdressed…” He whispered, “Is everyone going to be like that?”

Cole gave a slight cough, “Some will be, sure. Lots of people come out here to, well… have some fun.”

The look worsened. “Stick to the bar,” he repeated.

“That’s the spirit. Stick to the bar,” his companion reassured. “Stick to the bar.”

“Stick to the bar.” Eli pulled out his wallet and wriggled his fingers beneath the clear badge slot. They approached the bouncer and he shakily held his license out. Cole hadn’t. He simply waited.

Without asking for his, Cole was let in quickly and he bounced past the doors. Shortly after, the velvet rope was removed and Eli, too, was ushered in to the building. 

“He didn’t even ask for yours,” he complained as the darkness of the hall engulfed them and the strobing lights of the beyond doors held him in the dark like a tunnel.

“I come here often enough,” he explained. As they came upon the swinging doors, Cole paused and looked at Eli. “I am going to walk you to the bar. Just stick around the Dark Tile if you want most people to leave you alone. I’ll pay for whatever you want to eat and drink. Okay? Just tell them you’re with me. I have a credit with this place.”

Eli lifted a brow in skepticism but nodded afterward anyway when his friend's face went steely and as though he were rather serious. “I mean it,” he added, “I appreciate you coming into this place with me! Even if you’re just here for support and to make sure I don’t get whisked away by someone good looking.”

The bar wasn’t quite that far from the entrance, though that made sense in a way as the entire building was, almost quite literally, split into two main sections with a third smaller one tucked off at the farthest and darkest half, way beyond the strobing tiles that flashed. The immediate bass that hit him was like being on an airfield far too close to the engines of a plane. 

“Dark Tile,” his companion gestured towards the woven charcoal black beneath their feet, “White Tile,” he pointed beyond to the very opaque dance floor, some of the massive squares strobing with brilliant rainbow flashes. Eli couldn’t manage to think of what it would be like to be over in that section. A wave of hot bodies and throbbing music that choked the air with aromas and flashes that ached his eyes even from a distance. The concept seemed deplorable.

The walkways and casual air of the Dark Tile zone had high seating and tall tables with tall stools that swiveled. Drinks and some light bar food accompanied several occupied tables with laughing club-goers and girls. Eyes glanced at him but thankfully seemed to find their entourages and conversations far more interesting than his appearance. Honestly, he did surely stand out, no doubt. However, he did not stand out nearly as much as the brilliant neons and obnoxious platform shoes and leather with spikes that came from some people. He simply wasn’t entirely dressed to blend in, but with all the chaos, one white shirt and jeans wearing boy wasn’t enough to catch too much attention. 

Cole swiveled a chair around and patted it, “Up you go,” he encouraged, and Eli took a seat, sitting half to the side. A leather jacket was on his bartender’s back, but no shirt or anything else. The man wore a black belt and even blacker leather pants that shined more than they should have.

“Oh! Cole! You managed to drag your friend inside?” He asked, adjusting a piercing in his ear. His hair was cut rather short save for the short mohawk that stood on end a few inches. His body was muscled in a way that was strange to see from a bartender. Eli always imagined a classy man in a suit with a white dress shirt and a black tie. This was not what he had thought one of his first times at a bar to be like. “Do you want his drinks on your tab or is he paying himself? You still have a heavy amount of pre-paid credit from the last time you were here. Do you want me to grab you a receipt?”

Cole shook his head, “I’m good. Go ahead and put everything on that if you don’t mind. It’s my way of paying him to be my company tonight in case I get a little too wild. He isn’t much of a drinker and he’s a little shy. Keep trouble away for me?”

The man nodded in response, “Not a problem,” and Cole bounced off with a pat on Eli’s shoulder as a parting goodbye. A moment of silence passed before he leaned on the counter. “My name is Brent. I take up Friday, Saturday, and Tuesday nights. My twin sister Carla runs the bar with me. If you need something, you can flag either one of us down.”

“Pleased to meet you, Brent,” Eli managed, clearing his throat. Honestly, the presence of another friendly seeming face made him feel a little at ease. 

“I hear you’re not too much of a drinker. Do you want some water for now or something to snack on, mate?” he asked carefully, pulling a whiskey glass out. “I also know a lot of non-alcoholics if you still want something fun and bouncy to drink.”

“I’m all right. I will actually just take a long-island if that’s okay. I don’t drink a lot, but I like the hard teas,” Eli tucked his hands under the bar table, shifting in his swivel seat. “Maybe I’ll relax a little?”

Brent clicked his tongue, “I’ll make her mild for you,” he put away the short hard crystal and pulled out a tall and elegant looking glass. He departed for a few moments and slid down the bar to work. Eli took this chance to look around for where Cole may have run off to, finding him talking to a few classmates of his. He recognized a few and he assumed they were club-buddies with how they seemed to chat and laugh. It sent a cold sense of jealousy as he thought of the life that his only friend may have had outside of their almost daily interactions. All the other people he hung out with most likely were far more outgoing than he was and far less catholic. He couldn’t imagine taking his cross off. He couldn’t imagine throwing himself across the dancefloor, and furthermore, he couldn’t imagine himself drunk. 

The glass was carefully slid in front of him, “Here you are. Have some deep-fried pickles to go with it,” Brent added, landing a plastic basket of the breaded pickle spears in front of him. “Eli, right?”

He nodded, surprised, “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

The bartender laughed. “And you’re just as Cole described you. Well, Eli, if you need anything just call okay? I assume you don’t need me to tell you this, but it gets rather busy here and I get busy myself. But it’s no trouble at all to get you something - just let me know if you need it.”

Eli nodded, truly thankful when he thanked his bartender again who gave him a kind smile and sauntered off to a small cluster of people drinking and laughing.

He took his straw gingerly and watched the people around him cautiously. There, off in the corners, were the wallflowers that Cole promised would be there. Though he had no intention of leaving his perch he at least was aware of the other observers. And he was acutely made aware of how observed he was as well. Several sets of eyes were locked on him and he gave an internal shudder of discomfort. He pulled his shoulders up and hunched over the bar table in an effort to make himself seem as small and unnoticed as possible. 

This worked for half of his drink and he wasn’t entirely sure how long he had been sipping through his straw and crunching fried pickles between his teeth, tonguing the tar that had crept into his molars. An elbow was leaning against the table beside him, a tall woman with ebony black hair and a choker with an inverted pentagram dangling from it grinned at him with obsidian lipstick.

“Hey. You look lonely. You want some company?” she sweetly cooed. She was a giant compared to Eli who took notice of her massive black boots and long dark nails. Her makeup was impeccable and made her look almost doll-like with stern darkness around her eyes. Her entire attire and stature made her most certainly seem intimidating and as if she would easily lay Eli out if she had wanted. But her tone suggested a soft curiosity that was inviting and soothing.

He swallowed the last of his pickle, suddenly aware of his hunched posture over his cold deep-fry. “I… I’m not alone, per-se. I just…” 

“You came in with Cole. I saw you earlier. I’m not alone either, but I’m not a fan of today’s choice in music. I’m just hanging around to see if my brother doesn’t show up,” Her smile felt genuine and not like the fake flirtatious ones that came from the group that came and went every so often like migrating birds to a watering hole. “You’ve been sitting here by yourself for the last half hour.”

“I guess I don’t… mind you sitting here. I’m not much of a clubber, you know…” he watched her as she glided up and into her seat as if she was a ghost. Her massive heels must do half the work for her. She crossed her ankles and he noticed her fishnets and lucratively short shorts. He grimaced and returned to his drink. 

She laughed playfully, waving down the bartender. “Oh, I could tell by the way you're dressed…” She paused for a moment, “Unless you’re looking to twink your way out of the club,” she teased. She gauged the shocked expression of her company and snickered, “But judging by your single drink and your… well-combed hair, fresh clothes, lack of any jewelry except for your dainty little cross there, I’d say twinking your way out of this club is the last thing on your mind.”

He laughed anxiously, “I uh… I don’t think that’s my alley…” he sipped at his beverage.

“No?” A drink was placed in front of her, “Thanks Brent,” she smiled sweetly.

“Hey,” he pointed an accusing finger at her, “Keep your brother away from him, Salem. He’s to be left alone. That goes for you too. I know you can be troublesome sometimes.”

She lifted her hands up in surrender, chuckling gently, “If you see him, by the way, send him my way? He’s in trouble and he’s not at home.”

“I will,” Brent called back as he returned to sailing down the river of the bar to other patrons.

She turned fully to him, taking her deep purple scotch glass, “So. You gotta name, church boy?”

He lifted a brow at her and pushed his glass between his hands gently, “What makes you think that’s what I am?”

She scoffed, “A goodie-two-shoes like you sitting in a club like this? You’re only here because of Cole.”

“That’s true. Sure. I suppose that is a fair assumption,” he paused, “My name is Eli. And I hear your name is… Salem?”

She nodded, “That’s right. We have very original parents,” she took a sip of her drink, ignoring her garnish and straw. “So are you and Cole… boning?”

Eli had been about to take a drink, though instead inhaled a choked gasp of air and spluttered, slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes watered with the burn of the slight sip of alcohol that now set his nostrils on fire. He coughed, Salem watching him with confused interest. “Is… that a yes?”

“No! No we are just friends!” he managed to wheeze through his coughing fit. “Is that what he is telling everyone?”

Salem shook her head. “No,” she began, setting her glass down carefully, “He just doesn’t talk much about you. It’s like he keeps you a secret and only reveals information when we ask about you. A lot of us were beginning to think you were just a mythical creature!” she laughed. “Cole told us he had an overly religious childhood friend that was a particularly keen stickler for staying abstinent, not drinking too much, and he went to church at least twice a week between university.” She sipped again and set her glass back down, “We just assumed that he was keeping you all to himself! Now I see that you are just an elusive creature.”  
Eli laughed, “I’m not that elusive. I just spend my time in places that Cole doesn’t. My place is reading holy texts and his is…” he craned his neck around to glance for his friend who he spotted amidst the crowd, swallowed in the rolling waves of arms and legs, drink in hand, “on dancefloors during spring holiday.” 

“So you two are going to University here, right?” She inquired. Eli nodded. “What does a regular church-goer study then?”

“Religious Studies and Art History,” he replied gently, “I suppose you could have guessed that,” he coughed a laugh past his lips, his gaze flitting up to look at her from over his dwindling long-island iced tea.

She hummed pleasantly, “I suppose. You know,” she flipped her hair back, leaning in her chair heavily, “You’re pretty cute for a blonde. Are you naturally that light?”

This comment threw Eli off and he sucked heavily at his straw until the jingle and clinking of his half-melted ice cubes slipped across the smooth bottom of the glass. His garnish had drowned somewhere in those frozen depths. He thought about fishing it out to see how edible it was. “It’s slightly reddish in the sunlight. But yeah.”

“You’ve never dyed your hair?”

“No,” he blurted out, laughing, “No, I haven’t.”

“My god,” she sighed, “You are a little goodie-goodie, aren’t you?” She teased.

Eli swirled his ice cubes playfully, feeling a little less uncomfortable in his environment. Ease had settled over him that had him wishing for another drink to share with this stranger. “Hey,” he exclaimed, “I appreciate what God has given me,” he played, his grin shifting to an almost genuine smile. 

The calm settled over him, seeping into his bones and he felt like he could relax. But the stern, almost cold mocking that came from the voice that felt and seemed disembodied for a brief chilling moment shook him to his core.

“God?” the snicker snapped Eli’s eyes to a lean and well dressed- young man that had eased his way over and made his place comfortably beside Salem. “Oh..” he paused as he managed to lock eyes on Eli for several moments. Wide brown eyes stared intensely at him, a heart hammering in the chest clad in a long-sleeve white shirt. A cross dangled around the delicate neck, simple and pleasant and glistening silver in the dim overlights that hung like nooses over the bar. “Oh… I see,” the stranger paused, eyes flickering between Eli and Salem.

She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Lucien. Don’t. Leave him alone,” she warned lowly. There was a fear that wavered on her voice and the sense of calm and security that had come was swept away by the firm hold that Salem had on the man like a woman holding the leash to an attack hound. His attire was impeccable and the rich and deep purple of his dress shirt and the rich blood red of his tie made him feel so much taller than even Salem.

Eli was compelled to flee at the sight of him. His heart hammered.

“Do not be so afraid,” he cooed. Though to whom he had spoken Eli did not know. Salem took the bite though and loosened her grip. 

“Eli, this is Lucien. My brother…” her tone was still low, warning almost. Her eyes flickered to him and she released her sibling almost reluctantly. The two of them most certainly were siblings if they weren’t twins. Their rich black hair elegant and silky, eyes piercing and blue, sharp and full of a depth that threatened to drown him. Their postures and shapes were pleasant and firm, confident, almost terrifying. Their features were both pleasant and briefly, Eli thought that perhaps Salem wore no foundation or cover up on her cheeks and that perhaps their complexions were just that flawless - or so the matching beauty marks on their cheeks spoke. Though, in the dim club lighting, it looked as though there was something somewhat peculiar about Lucien’s left eye. Eli did not have time to fully notice or appreciate the heterochromatic flaw that streaked across in a gash of brown.

Lucien’s hand was extended slowly, and Salem seemed tense at this action as if ready to pounce. It made Eli’s anxiousness heighten with a sharp acuteness that almost could fit the acute sharpness of the anciently blue eyes that were locked on his. He couldn’t break eye contact. It felt as though the other man would snap his neck if he took his eyes off of him for but a moment.

In a panic, Eli gently and shakily took the offered hand, “Ple-pleasure to meet you, Lucien. I’m… Eli.”

Instead of a handshake, the strange sibling took the back of Eli’s hands to his lips, murmuring from behind his stolen hand, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well.” 

Eli wasn’t sure if he should snatch his appendage from the other or not. But even if he could, he found he could do little save for stare in awkward apprehension. This gesture seemed to ease Salem’s tension and she flickered her eyes between the two. “Eli is under Brent’s scrutiny. If he sees you, he’ll throw a fit like a mother hen.”

Lucien’s eyes softened, “Oh you think too poorly of me. I’m sure God will protect him above all else,” he stated.

Eli was unsure if the flat statement was sarcasm or not, “Are you… mocking me?”

Lucien blinked at him, head canting just slightly, “I would not be so rude to you. I’m sure you are very beloved and cared for. Why else would God guide you to be under scrutiny and protections even in a place of great sins?” there came no grin or smile to promise a goading joke to lure him into a defensive position. Nothing but clear conviction came from the other and Salem looked mildly uncomfortable by her brother’s remarks. Eli balked a little but kept his mouth shut and instead cradled his glass between his hands, eyes finally falling to the melting cubes.

“We ought to speak,” Salem cut through, clearing her throat, “In a booth, preferably,” she gestured with her head a little.

“Yes. That’s why I came poking around for you. I just didn’t expect you to be busy with fine company,” he hummed. “I hope you weren’t intending to weasel your way through conversation and drink and take him home, my sister. Your bringing home of stray dogs is leaving… messes.”

She cleared her throat and slipped from her seat, “Eli. I’ll be back. I just gotta handle some things with my brother, love. Stay put and I’m sure Brent will be sure you’re kept good care of.”

Without hesitation, she slipped past, snatching her brother’s well-dressed arm and yanking with a force that sent him stumbling after her. They exchanged a brief glance between one another, a curious look from Lucien, and a petrified one from Eli.


	2. Hens Don't Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wonderful filler chapter.  
> Eli goes back to the Elixir with Cole.  
> Trouble may be brewing in the background.  
> But we all know a filler chapter when we see one.

“ _ He what?! _ ” Cole spluttered, pulling his shirt over his head. Eli leaned in the doorway and shrugged. Spinning to face his friend, Cole’s face was pale and rigid. “It’s a hazard for him to just  _ speak _ to you. His sister is already bad enough. But Lucien? No. Don’t talk to him.”

Eli’s expression was impassive as he half-zipped his sweatshirt up. “He didn’t seem…  _ terrible _ .”

Cole held up a hand and paused, staring Eli down and hard. “Trust me. When we go tonight, do  _ not _ talk to Lucien. Ignore him. If he speaks to you, don’t speak back. If he offers to buy you a drink, you don’t accept it. If he asks to walk you home, you stay here and call a cabbie.”

Eli laughed, “He’s a human just like you and me. You’re treating him like he’s a Fae.”

Cole choked back a cold laugh that sent a chill down the other’s spine. “The Fae would be preferable, my friend. Trust me. A lot of people that go home with those two don’t get seen again. I hear their parents are into some nasty and dark, twisted things. No one goes up to Baal Estate. There’s a reason for that. Okay? Just don’t. I’m surprised that your cross hasn’t kept him far from you…” Eli raised a brow at this and laughed gently. But the firm look in his friend’s eye cut the laughter short. “Now that I am thinking of it… Maybe I ought to get a rosary or something. Keep that bloody psycho away from me.”

Eli clicked his tongue, rubbing the side of his neck awkwardly, “The Holy Cross is not exactly for keeping people away from you. It is a symbol of the Lord and keeps one protected in the face of evil. Demons. That sort of thing. Not people.”

Cole grasped his jacket from the back of the couch and clutched it tightly, “Exactly.” His gaze drifted away when Eli rolled his eyes at the remark, “I gotta hit up the house and see Aunt Barb. She said she had something for my mum. So I’ll see you at the Elixir tonight, okay? And remember what I said!” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed out the door. 

Eli nodded silently and shut the door behind his friend, locking it subconsciously. He fixed his shirt again and fussed with his necklace as to ensure the clasp had not strayed about to the front. He shook his head to himself and stared into the hall in a dazed state as he recalled the horror that his friend had exhumed when he told him about Salem and Lucien. “Double bad luck,” he had called them.

They were human beings. There was probably a very rational and reasonable explanation. Eli had asked his paranoid friend if they were part of some gang or cartel of some sort. From what Eli could understand, it was nothing more than paranoid and terrified local superstitions. Though, past the wood out back behind the alleys and the parking lot in the back of the Elixir, up the hill and through those thickets of trees the land became that of the Baalthou. The family had a small castle out there and upon the hills, so it made perfect sense for the Baallthou siblings to spend time at the Elixir. The nightclub was practically in their backyard. What a fitting place for them to play around in at their age.

Eli hadn’t thought about Lucien until Cole had asked him if he had made any friends while sitting at the bar. He had told him of Salem. How she was nice and asked casual questions and seemed to know the bartender. As soon as the first name dropped from his lips, his friend had whipped around and asked him with a firm fear: “And the brother?”

When Eli had explained Lucien’s strange introduction, having never had his hand kissed by another as a form of formal introduction, his friend had paled. Eli was sure of himself and his convictions. He wasn’t threatened by Lucien - though he thought back to the uncertainty and adrenaline that had hit him like a nauseous wave of alcohol to his brain when the man had first shown up. He felt an unnerving amount of intimidation from the anxious fear that had rolled off of Salem who had held her brother’s shoulder as one holds a dog’s collar as it desires to lunge and snap and snarl and attack prey. She was protecting Eli. And Eli thought to his friend’s terror for him as Lucien had spoken. He had said some strange things, some of which he wasn’t sure if he was mocking him or if he was serious. Their entire attire and their appearances were most certainly suiting their terrifying descriptions. Their personas seemed to fit the bill.

“This must be just a whole lot of superstitious misunderstandings,” Eli had spoken aloud to himself, returning to his kitchen to finish his tea. “Cole is paranoid,” he decided, “Sucked into some nightlife superstition.” There came a sense of impending dramatic irony as he plucked his teacup from his table and took a sip. He thought briefly about changing his outfit. A light grey sweater for the leftover chill in the air from the winter and a fancy white sweater-like sweatshirt kept him warm where his radiator was not reaching. He took another sip and decided that changing his clothes for a nightclub was a silly idea. He was perfectly fine in the clothes he wore last time. There was no reason he should have to change this time. His fingers found his zipper once more and he inched it halfway up his chest.

He occupied the majority of the hours between his time in the kitchen and his phone ringing while working on his spring break homework. The thesis he was writing meant a lot to the Art Department and he had written many pages by the time his cell phone was vibrating across the counter. He answered the friendly face on his screen with a chipper, “Is it nine already?”

_ ‘I’m on my way to the Elixir already. I almost forgot to call you. But you live closer than I do so we should get there at about the same time.’ _ There came a tentative pause,  _ ‘Did you go clothes shopping for something to wear at all?’ _

Eli laughed, “No. I didn’t,” he sighed, “I  _ like _ my clothes!”

_ ‘You’re going to draw in Lucien like a bat to nectar, you know. Just be careful with the creeps! They  _ do _ exist there. They just know to stay away from the bar less Brent shoos them off like pests.’ _

Eli sighed and stood from his kitchen table, “I’ll head out in a few minutes here. See you at the Elixir, Cole.”

_ ‘Change into something that’ll blend in!’ _ his friend quickly quipped back before Eli hung up on him. People wore what they wanted to clubs anyhow. Eli saw no reason for a change in wardrobe. He tucked his wallet into his back pocket and slipped his phone into his sweatshirt pocket, snatched his keys from the kitchen counter, and slipped out his door.

The walk was silent and almost lonely as the skies were black and grey with shimmering clouds dusted with the street lights reflecting off of the mist and fog that had settled over the surrounding moors. His hair wasn’t exactly perfectly combed, but it was not quite messy either. He flattened it gently, the subtle waves that curled around his ears and cheekbones wouldn’t stay put. He gave up after a few attempts and instead sucked on his lip for a moment as he rounded a corner and saw the thick line that had formed at the doors.

“It’s Friday,” a familiar voice, though distant, trotted up beside him. Cole’s cheeks were flushed. He must have jogged to catch up and make it on time. “Shoulda come earlier. Merde.”

“I suppose all the nightlife comes out on a Friday. Weekend freakend, isn’t that what you always say?” Eli slapped a hand between Cole’s shoulder blades. “Better get in line before we have to wait more, mmm?” 

Cole didn’t complain as they trodded silently up to wait in line with every other chaotic mess of black leather and metal. Though Cole was humble in his clothes, the metal band t-shirts and the leather jacket with his boots with trashed jeans made him fit right in. He was clearly not there for attention but to enjoy himself and blend in with the crowd so he could soak up the loud music, strobing lights, and liquor.

Eli silently hoped that there was an open spot at the bar but worried for the fullness of the Elixir may leave him awkwardly shifting between bodies and finding a corner to plant himself so he may fulfill his true calling of being a wallflower at a nightclub. They managed to get past the bouncer who recognized them from last time and ushered them in without needing any IDs. Eli looked anxiously to Cole, “He didn’t ask for them this time?”

Cole nodded silently in the dark familiar tunnel, “Keeps the line moving faster. Gets people in and out quickly if he knows who we are already. And you were here just yesterday.”

Eli hummed thoughtfully, but the sound was drowned out as they passed the swinging dark doors and it was swallowed by the crowd’s cacophony that blended terribly with the music; everything was so much louder today than the previous Thursday. Eli wondered if that was what every weekend day was like and severely contemplated avoiding potential Friday clubbing in the future.

Cole grabbed his arm fiercely before Eli could make his way to the bar, “Like I said. Avoid Lucien. Don’t talk to the Ballthou’s whatsoever.”

Eli rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay! I’ll be careful. All right?” he quirked a grin, “Go dance! I know that’s why you’re here and what you’re really excited about.” 

Cole gave him a sympathetic and concerned furrow of his brows before letting Eli go and trouncing off into the crowds. It was flattering that his friend was so concerned about him, sure. But Eli felt the paranoia was a little excessive. He managed to wriggle his way past clusters of people. Last night, the tall diner tables were half empty. But today all were packed and full. His stomach dropped as each bar stool was well possessed. He managed to squeeze past to lean against the bar table. He waved Brent down who was refilling a beer for someone. As he slid the glass across the table, the small cluster of people cheered happily.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, rushing down to where Eli stood, “Eli! Oh thank goodness. I want you to be aware that the twins are here. I’d be careful. Thankfully Salem found some prey and she’s been busy upstairs. But I lost track of Lucien. I believe he is hanging out in a booth. I don’t know if he is alone, but would you like a drink so you may go find a place to hide in?” Brent’s expression didn’t relay any potential dangers or threats. Just friendly caution was on his lips.

Eli’s brow quirked, “I was going to stay here for a while until someone left for the dance floor. Should I be worried? What’s the deal with those two anyway?”

Brent laughed lightly, “Honestly, mate,” he began to make up a long-island tea, “Salem and Lucien both have an appetite and are mischievous. There’s ‘lotta rumors about their family in these parts generally when it comes to the nightlife. But I know Cole expressed great concern about keeping you out of their way. He doesn’t trust them one bit.”

Eli took the offered glass with a pleasantly polite  _ thank you _ . “But they’re harmless overall, yes?”

Brent leaned on the counter heavily, “I can’t exactly tell you that, mate. I  _ will _ tell you that one time, about a year ago, Lucien took home some guy that was here from Liverpool,” Brent leaned in closer at this point and Eli did the same. “I never saw the guy from Liverpool after that and Lucien was gone for almost a month. When I saw him again he had this cut across his cheek that was deep - and I mean deep. Stitches and the whole nine. He hasn’t shown an interest in anyone since. So… watch your back.”

Eli furrowed his brow, “That doesn’t quite tell me anything, Brent,” he huffed, leaning away. 

The Bartender shrugged and wiped down his counter, “Look, I’m just saying that there are rumors.”

Eli shook his head and laughed, “He could have gone on holiday or  _ literally anything _ .” he sipped at his drink. “Are all nightlifers so superstitious?” he teased.

“Nope. Just this area,” Brent smiled back, “Take this information for what it’s worth. Don’t go home with Lucien. Not that you seem like the kind of guy to go home with someone they don't know.”

Eli rolled his eyes playfully and swirled his tea, “I don’t…  _ believe _ I am particularly all that interested anyway,” he picked his glass up, “Thanks for the drink, Brent.”

His bartender nodded and tipped his head in response. Eli unglued himself from the bar and shimmied along with the tables where the wall met the sections that began to isolate themselves into private booths. He noticed the muscle that was stationed in these areas and avoided them in favour of the wall where a small groupie of neon dressed bodies stood and chatted in friendly conversation. He kept a six-foot distance and silently enjoyed his beverage.

He thought back on what Brent had said and shook it out of his head as he slowly strayed to roving his eyes over the people. He never considered himself much of a people watcher. But some of these fellows wore some of the most obnoxious clothes he had ever seen. It was as if everyone had crawled out just for this evening. He sucked at his drink quicker than he had last night and was sad when he took a final drink to find the watered down tea at the bottom and the clinking of cubes at the bottom.

He gauged himself carefully and waited. Watching. Observing. He felt fine and he knew he was going to be there for a while. He had been careful to pace himself with his beverage, but with nothing left to drink, the minutes had begun to crawl painfully slowly. Song after song switched and contorted and he felt eyes on him as he stood there. He could not have been stationary for more than ten minutes after the crawling sensation of being watched had begun to slither under his skin.

As it became more unbearable, he finally peeled his body from the wall and shuffled amongst the groups, pardoning and excusing himself. Ever mannerful, Eli was careful to not disturb the groups like they were packs of wild animals. He finally managed to slip beside two women dressed in red silk that were chatting about something that regarded an office. He waited patiently.

Brent and his sister, oh… what was her name? Eli couldn’t remember and he didn’t exactly wish to disturb the siblings with the people they conversed with. He waited, pulling his phone out to check the time. Mindlessly he registered that it was half past ten and checked out his messages quickly, scrolling through texts from his pastor, his mother… Cole. He paused briefly and turned to scan the crowd.

It was like a writhing mass of limbs and music. The pulses and sounds and the obnoxious cheering of the crowd had surely swallowed his friend whole. The only way to retrieve him would be to join. He did not see himself doing that in any way shape or form.

After a few moments, he tucked his phone away. “Hey!” the woman beside him flicked her red waves behind her ear, “Do you need a drink, honey?”

Eli felt his ears turn red, “I don’t want to interrupt them,” he explained lightly.

She smiled, “You’re sweet. But this is their  _ job _ . They don’t mind. They’d rather they have happy patrons,” she reassured. “I used to work a bar. I know.”

With that, she whistled. So loud was the air she managed to blow past her crooked fingers in her lips, “Brent! Carla! This one’s dry!” she pushed herself up over the bar and jabbed a finger down to point over Eli’s head. The flagging of the siblings was enough to get them to hustle over. Carla shuffled quickly over, her face still flush with laughter from earlier.

“What can I get you?” she sweetly offered, taking the empty glass Eli offered. “Oh. Uhm…”

“He likes the tea,” Cole’s voice came. Beet red, skin shiny with sweat and breath coming out in gentle gasps, he took up his shirt and wiped his face. “It’s so bloody hot on the dance floor tonight!” He leaned against the counter. 

  
  


“Hey, Cole,” the woman from earlier chipped.

“Marilyn! Oh you’re here tonight? I thought you hated Fridays?” Cole chatted up.

Carla glanced between Cole and the Marilyn woman as they chatted and caught up quickly. “Tea?”

Eli nodded awkwardly, “Yes, please.”

“So!” Marilyn addressed both of them, “Is this the friend you keep talking about? I was beginning to think he was a mythical creature.”

Eli laughed awkwardly, “I’m not much of a clubber, you know… Not that it’s  _ terrible _ it just isn’t my crowd.”

She nodded slowly in understanding as Cole spoke up, “It took half a year to convince him to come in with me. He always walks me home and comes to get me but he refused to step inside until yesterday.”

“Well,” Marilyn tossed her hair back, “Welcome to hell! Though I think for you, that’s a bit blasphemous to say, eh?”

Eli shrugged and laughed lightly, “I’m not too bothered. I knew what I was getting into.”

She shouldered her dress strap back into place with the help of a long nail, “Well if you ever need an escape, just come back over here and pretend you know me. All dressed in white there like a snack for the Baalthous. I saw Lucien earlier, so keep that in mind.”

Cole paled at this and swallowed down the drink that was slid in front of him beside the tea Carla presented to Eli; he thanked her sweetly of course and she returned to her brother’s side. “Where?”

She shrugged, “I think he’s in a booth. I saw him come in but haven’t seen him since. I  _ did, _ however,” she continued slowly, “See a bottle girl go to and from one of the booths. She looked a little uncomfortable and I don’t doubt that it’s Lucien’s bottle girl.”

Cole sighed in relief. “Thank god,” he put his hands together but paused, “Actually,” he looked at Eli, “Thank God for me, eh?” He quickly downed his drink and shimmied in a strange and sensual way. “Back to the floor for me! DJ is about to switch out!” He clapped a hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Lovely to see you, love! Make some trouble for me, hmm?” He snapped his fingers at her way and she waved back as he bounced into the crowd once more.

Eli awkwardly glanced at Marilyn once more before lifting his drink in a mockery of a toast, “Thank you. I’m going to try and find a corner again,” he smiled. She wished him luck and told him to remember what she had said about needing an exit. He nodded and shimmied back over to the darkened areas where he had once seen the group of neon. 

The entire area had been occupied by a whole new group and his anxiousness suddenly gave a sharp incline in his heart rate. Being a wallflower looked like it was going to become problematic and very soon. Where he had been before, however, he saw a rich dark black dress shirt and a well-formed purple tie. The shimmer of the silver of collar pins strung with fancy chains dangled over the tie knot. The eyes that locked on his sent a chill down his spine. He held his glass with both hands suddenly and looked down and away. This may have been a mistake as within the few seconds he broke eye contact, he saw the shiny, well-polished shoes a few feet from his own black sneakers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't half drunk when I wrote this one!  
> I was completely wasted.


	3. Bad Choices and Good Spices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Awkward Booth Scene  
> Eli, in all of his skepticism and curiosity, has been coaxed into sharing a drink with Lucien Baalthou.  
> Mild drunkenness and poor alcohol tolerance ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat short chapter.  
> Gaudy flirting ensues.  
> This chapter is a train wreck. Turn back now.

“You look like you want an out. Need a place to hide from the crowds?” The tone was subtle, soft, almost unhearable against the onslaught of music and frequent chatter.

Eli managed to look up. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, “Ah,” he began, taking his straw and focusing on his drink. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.” He confessed honestly.

Lucien tilted his head just a little, “Are your parents here?” he teased. “I’m not going to force you to do anything - but it’s about to get even  _ more _ packed than it is now.” Lucien leaned in close, “I’m not a fan of crowds either. I have a booth. Come sit with me.”

“Who else is there?” Eli suspiciously asked, looking Lucien in the eyes fully for a few moments. That stark streak of brown against the left eye was stunning as he blinked slowly.

“Just us.”

Eli lifted a brow suspiciously. “Us? Your sister and you?”

Lucien held a hand out, “You and me.” His tone was pleasant. Inviting.

The way he said that and those words rolled from his tongue were lucrative and convincing. Something about the tone and the tenor of his voice made a promise. Eli glanced over his shoulder at the dance floor for a moment, shifting his feet in contemplation.

“Cole isn’t fond of me. So I don’t doubt he’s filled your head full of paranoia. I understand if you respectfully refuse. I just think that there are eyes out here that are jealously planning on trying to snatch you up. I would hate to see you have to defend yourself from all the thirsty parasites.” 

Eli laughed, “No one’s…” he glanced at the group that had occupied the neon’s old spot and caught the eyes of three women wearing matching chokers with spikes on them and cat ears giving him a strange sultry look. Eli may have been stubbornly catholic most of the time but he wasn’t a moron. “Well…”

“People will leave you alone if you’re with me anyway,” he offered, and Eli slowly took Lucien’s hand. The other ran a thumb along the back of his hand, a gesture which soothed him in a strange and confusing manner. “Even if you don’t want to talk, it keeps suitors away from  _ me _ and suitors away from  _ you _ .”

“All right,” Eli felt the gentle tug and he allowed himself to be led back and alone to the walls of the club. He was woven amongst tall walled circles that made up the booths. Confusingly, they were fashioned in a way that blocked the potential view from in or out - even the dancefloor and the DJs would be obscured with the reflective black glassy surfaces that surrounded each booth. It was like a maze in this quarter of the club. 

Noticing Eli’s thoughts running across his face, “It’s one-way glass. We can see out, but no one can see in - less they are at the entrance of the booth of course.”

“Ah,” Eli managed.

“Speaking of,” Lucien led Eli to the entrance of a raised booth, the circular pattern of the seating a slight distance from the round table that accompanied it. Deep red leather and black and purple adorned the emblems and trims. It was rather luxurious and Lucien chivalrously ushered Eli in, guiding him like a damsel.

As Eli got comfortable and seated himself, Lucien slipped in on the other side and leaned back in the leather. A glass and a bottle sat on the table, upon which Eli set his iced tea. “I take it you aren’t a heavy drinker? Hmm?” Lucien inquired slowly, his tone seeming genuine.

Eli’s gaze flickered to the glass that Lucien poured himself, the fluid a strange and vivid green, and then brought to his lips. From the upper lip, almost across the middle and down to his bottom lip there was a peculiar mark. Eli managed to follow up, the flesh and tissue pale in a long and thin line that stretched across his sharp cheekbone. “No, sir. I don’t… I drink, but I don’t find myself getting drunk at all.”

“That’s good,” Lucien set the glass down and slid it towards Eli. “Help yourself,” he gestured casually to the drink. “Share a drink with me.”

Eli looked at his tea awkwardly, “I… have a drink,” he began, unsure of what Lucien was exactly asking of him. 

“Yes. But will you share a drink with  _ me _ ?”

“I…” Eli took the glass slowly, gingerly, “I don’t think that’s what that saying means…” he began. Lucien watched with intense interest as he sniffed the contents. “This smells strong…”

“It’s absinthe,” he stated plainly, bluntly. “It’s diluted, but it’s still absinthe. Just a sip if you take a drink,” he warned gently, crossing his legs ‘neath the booth. He watched Eli’s gaze flicker between the glass in his hand and his tea that sat just before him. There was contemplation and mulling in his head and Lucien could practically smell it.

Eli brought the glass to his lips, feeling the cold of the liquid before he parted them just enough to allow it to wash down. He swallowed quickly as he almost slammed the drink back down and coughed, covering his mouth. The burn was absolutely agonizing and the rancid herbal flavours were almost absent. His throat and tongue were on fire and he choked back the urge to gag as a strangled whine escaped him through his coughing fit. The acrid flavours came as an aftertaste on his tongue and he  _ needed _ to wash it down. He desperately plucked his tea up and pulled the straw past his lips, drinking as if it was going to save his life.

“You ought to pace yourself,” Lucien warned. “Cole would strangle me with his bare hands if I returned you to him unconscious.”

Eli hadn’t realized that he had swallowed down half his drink in a desperate attempt to rid himself of the suffocating absinthe. Lucien reached across the table and took his glass back, and he sipped once more at his beverage. Eli watched him with mild horror. “Must be an acquired taste,” he wheezed, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t drink  _ often _ . He feared for his potentially weak tolerance.

“I'm already drunk,” Lucien stated as though it was a reassuring notion. “It’s better if you’re at least tipsy,” he tilted his chin up as a woman came around the corner. “Please, bring me a bottle of wine? A white would be nice. Surprise me. I don’t care.”

“White?” Eli’s gaze snapped to the busty woman in a black corset, her makeup light, complimentary, and her booty shorts practically sucked inside her body. She wore her confusion on her face as she wrote down the request.

She looked to Eli and then back to Lucien. “It’s for him,” he gestured to Eli who looked anxious.

“One glass, sir?” she asked.

“Two.” He held up his hand, index, and middle finger.

“I’m… I’m not sure if a bottle of wine is necessary,” Eli tried to cut in, but the bottle girl paid him no mind.

“I’ll have that right for you. Did you want anything to eat?”

“Chips, please, and cauliflower,” he added, waving his hand dismissively at her.

Eli turned to Lucien awkwardly, “I’ll take the check,” he almost sounded panicked.

“Oh, you’re precious,” Lucien laughed gently, “My family owns this nightclub. There is no check, love.” he downed the rest of his drink and corked the bottle of that infernal liquid. “Finish up your tea. We’ll have her take your glass when she brings the wine, hmm?”

Eli slowly took up his glass and sipped at it through his straw, “So…” Lucien looked to him, eyes still sharp and not the least bit seeming intoxicated, “Your family… owns this club?”

Lucien nodded slowly, “Yes, we own half of the town. Our estate is just out back of the nightclub actually…” He trailed off casually, sliding his empty glass and the bottle across the table. “Would you like to see?” he propped his chin in the cup of his hand as he leaned over the table.

“Is this where I anxiously agree and have a sort of… giddy school-girl response to your charm?” Eli teased, feeling a light fuzziness hang over his mind. He felt light. “You’re… not quite what I expected, but I  _ didn’t _ expect you to offer to show me your estate so early on in the night.”

Lucien laughed and leaned back once more in his seat, “Ah. I am losing my touch,” he tisked. “You wouldn’t come home with me anyway. Less you never be seen again,” he playfully added.

The thoughts that bounced in Eli’s slowly intoxicated mind came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “That’s right… What happened to your face?”

Lucien was jarred by this, his body tensing for a moment. “Oh. Was Brent talking sweetly about me again?” he prodded, his hand coming up to trace the mark that ran down his face. The act was almost sensual in the slow method his thin fingers trailed his nail down the scar and across his lips. “Tell me, Eli,” he shifted closer which made Eli’s heart jump into his throat. He had immediately regretted letting the haze that was beginning to fill his mind like the tea once filled his cup wash over him. “What do  _ you _ think happened? What did that sweet honeysuckle bartender tell you about me? I’m intrigued. I hear whispers but no one ever tells me what is  _ truly _ said about us - about me.”

Eli swallowed his anxiety and allowed Lucien to get closer, settling deeply in his seat to tell the other that he wasn’t uncomfortable with the encroaching and threatening shimmer that came from Lucien’s eyes. “Well,” he clicked his tongue as he let his empty glass slide across the table to join Lucien’s. “What is  _ said _ about you is that you’re dangerous - something to do with some… dark “stuff” that goes on in your house. “Twisted” is the term used by Cole,” he was sure to use scare quotes. “Brent says that you took home a guy from Liverpool once and both you and him disappeared for a while. I don’t know what he thinks may have happened,” Eli slyly propped his chin into his palm and stared at Lucien, “He thinks it must have been pretty bad. But he theorizes that you got that,” he paused, holding himself still as he almost blurted out a strange comment that made no sense in his brain. He left it, “Well… he theorizes you got  _ that _ ,” he rearranged his sentence, “From the Liverpool guy I think.”

Lucien lofted a brow, pressing his lips together. He allowed his gaze to focus on the table before them for a few moments as he thought. When his attention returned to Eli, he allowed a hand to come up to his company’s face and tuck a stray bit of Eli’s hair behind his ear. The gesture was flirtatious, but Eli steeled himself and simply allowed it to happen. His iron will kept him from even finding an interest in women when he was in secondary school. “And you?” Lucien slowly drawled, hand slipping to Eli’s jaw. It was  _ this _ gesture that caused a strange waver in Eli’s stalwart defenses. His chin was adjusted so he looked at Lucien fully. “I want to hear what you think come from your own divine lips. The ones God gave you. Holy and beautiful.”

Something deep in the pit of Eli did not expect those comments, those  _ words _ to come so smoothly and flawlessly from Lucien. His gut fluttered and a tingling shivered down his spine and he felt a twitch in his leg muscles. Perhaps to flee. Warmth threatened to creep up his neck and he became acutely conscious that he was, maybe, a little overdressed with his sweater jacket. “What I… think?” He managed to form coherent words as his brain panicked in his foggy alcohol-induced state. He was beginning to crave the promise of wine. Smooth and fresh on his tongue, he could already imagine it. And the food - the chips coming made his stomach writhe a little. 

“Tell me, Eli,” Lucien had somehow gotten closer, his grip on Eli’s jaw so gentle and soft; it was all that was needed to keep the other right where he was. “What do you think happened to Charles of Liverpool? Did I maybe kill him? Drag his body to the basement? What horrors do you think happened in my house?”

Eli cleared his throat as he felt the other’s alcohol-laced breath on his face. The scent of Lucien was a wicked one of spices and a cologne of fresh air and herbs, flowers and a garden somewhere near a window at midnight in summer with a cup of tea on the railing. He shut his eyes. “I think many things could have happened,” his mind was filled with what Lucien’s room must have looked like - what the walls and the halls of Baal Estate looked like. What expensive parlour rooms they had. The richness of silk covers and the plushness of pillows on his lower back snapped him out of his dazed liquored state, “Holiday.” He gasped lightly as a finger from Lucien began to press sharply into his jaw.

“Holiday?” Lucien drawled, bringing his mouth close to Eli’s ear, “I’m always on Holiday. What do you think happened? What do you think transpired that night?”

Something twitched deep in the pits of Eli, a subtle surge of electricity snapped through him and he whimpered past tightly pressed lips. He choked out a whine and felt that dangerous tip of Lucien’s nail press into his jaw harder like it was looking to pry information from him. “I told Brent that you could have simply gone on Holiday! Just because the man from Liverpool wasn’t seen here after he left with you doesn’t mean anything happened. I think everyone’s paranoid!” his breath felt short and his heart had begun to hammer.

Eli wasn’t sure what had come over him, but the sensation of the threatening intoxication was heavy in his mind. A strange foreign part of him wasn’t threatened by the situation despite faint and distant warning signals that came from somewhere far away in his brain. Lucien looked at him, deeply and intensely for several moments. “Honestly?”

Eli nodded in Lucien’s grip and his hand released his jaw to slide along it instead, “Lying is a sin,” Eli murmured. At some point, Lucien’s lips had gotten dangerously close to his.

“Yes it is, you clever boy,” he replied, giving Eli a smooth and inviting kiss. Eli had not really been kissed before, and the sensation was entirely foreign and strange to him. Lips on lips was not a thought he had often, if at all, and yet the pleasant warmth of skin contact made him move just enough to grasp at Lucien’s hand which held the back of Eli’s neck almost possessively.

When Lucien pulled away, Eli licked his lips like he had savoured a wine. This object arrived very promptly with a pale bottle girl who set the tray down. The food was hot and the wine was being chilled in an ice bucket. Already open with a fancy topper, she placed two large wine glasses in front of Lucien and Eli.

“Thank you, Leila. That’ll be all,” he sternly told her. She said nothing and left rather quickly. She wanted nothing to do with Lucien and probably for good reason. Eli was trying to pull himself together and organize his muddied mind. The thought of further conversation and drinks with Lucien seemed dangerous. But some part of him encouraged him to stay. His mind told him  _ no. No please no. Get out. Get out! _

But a small electric tingling in his spine had him clearing his throat instead and fidgeting beneath the table. “Ahh… That was unexpected. I am not sure what I think of your strange gestures.”

Lucien had leaned away, fussing with the bottle and sliding the fancy dishes of fried foods in front of Eli, “The gesture should have been self-explanatory,” he stated, uncorking the bottle the rest of the way and pouring the both of them a mild quantity of wine to begin with, “Eat something before you get deeper into the hole that is in your mind,” he ironically slid the glass towards Eli who took it instead of the chips that were in front of him. A strange white sauce was in a ramekin on the side of the dish.

Eli ignored it and took a deep breath of the wine. It brought senses back together in his mind and cleared his confusions a little; he sipped. He savoured. He hummed pleasantly. “Oh…” he almost moaned - the sound catching Lucien’s attention heavily. His eyes looked far darker than before, “This is the best wine I have ever had…” Lucien watched Eli closely as he sampled his own wine carefully. He seemed satisfied, yes, but not the way Eli’s cheeks flushed and his eyelids fluttered as he took another deep drink of his wine.

“I can order you a bottle to take home,” Lucien offered his tone steady despite the trembling that had begun to form in his hands. He was beginning to itch. He was beginning to feel hungry. He watched the soft features of Eli like he was a Turkish delight and he cursed himself inwards for his behaviour. He steadied himself with will alone and watched as Eli’s gaze turned back to him. 

He was pained when he looked at Lucien, “Oh no. I couldn’t possibly do that. You are spoiling me. I know where you expect this to go and I don’t particularly think that I am quick and easy to comply with your whims. At least, I don’t think. I owe you for this drink and I think I’m already getting a little too intoxicated for my likeness,” he took another gentle drink, “But this wine  _ is _ very lovely,” he sadly stared down at his glass as he swirled it slowly.

“If you wish to repay me… come home with me tonight,” Lucien blurted out. He cursed himself inwardly again for slipping on his control. 

Eli laughed gently, “I’m not…” he couldn’t bring himself to say that he wasn’t attracted to Lucien. He couldn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to… to what? To lie? Was it a lie to say he wasn’t attracted to Lucien in some way? He couldn’t force the words from his lips and he internally panicked. Lucien’s charm, wit, soft black locks, and a vivid complexion that set his sapphire eyes in his skull made Eli feel a little less comfortable with his avoidance of developing romantic relationships in the past. He thought of Lucien’s hand on his neck as he had kissed him just a few minutes earlier and he found it almost gave him a shudder to recall.

Eli fully stopped and looked at Lucien. Those rich blues were no longer like the sky at sunset but like the ocean at dusk, the skies littered with stars. And Eli’s heart began to flicker like candlelight, hot and melting the wax that made up his senses. He fully appreciated the pleasant features of Lucien. Sharp cheekbones and a sharp and lean jaw that lead into elegant ears full of flattering silver piercings in each ear - the shapely round of them framed equally by the smooth and luscious ebony locks. Lucien had straight medium length hair, but its ends curled seductively around his neck and ears, his temples, and his forehead. Something about the other made Eli feel exceptionally inadequate. He was always grateful for his health. What mattered to him was that the good Lord had blessed him with a decent physique and healthy lungs and heart. He was born decently fit and well-formed, but he wasn’t quite sure he had the stunning genes and blood that Lucien had. By comparison, he was rather plain.

Eli became self-conscious after staring at Lucien with full seriousness, forgetting that he had even begun a half-formed sentence. “I’m not…” He tried once more. What was he going to say? Sweet merciful Lord, Eli wanted to drink the whole bottle of wine himself at this point. 

“Are you okay?” Lucien asked. His tone was sweet, considerate. And the shift in how his eyes stared at Eli told him that he was concerned.

“Yeah, I think.. I’m just a little tipsy. I keep losing my train of thought,” Eli managed, laughing nervously. Subconsciously he let his hand trail to his cross and he rubbed his thumb across it in self-soothing. 

“If my suggestion made you feel uncomfortable…” Lucien began.

Eli laughed in an awkward manner, eyes going to his wine as he took a far deeper drink than he initially intended. “No. No, I’m just… I don’t think-” Lucien’s gaze was intense, “I don’t wish to disappoint you, of course. You’ve been rather accommodating and I may be new to the nightlife, but I know that this is… a trade. I owe you something in return for your hospitality,” he gave a weak grin. A sort of solemnity came across him that painfully plucked at Lucien’s chest. “I don’t think I can really give you what you want. So here I am, simply taking advantage of your generosity.”

Lucien slid his glass from him and pushed the bottle towards Eli. “No.” he stated firmly. “I won’t have it. I won’t do this,” he quietly spoke almost to himself. “Please,” he gestured towards the bottle. “Take it home with you. I will call you a cabbie when you’re ready to leave.”

Eli stammered gently, “I… Have I done something, Lucien?” he managed, half petrified of the other’s sudden change in demeanor.

Lucien shook his head, “Goodness no. It is a pleasure to sit with you and share your company and I have been rather overbearing. I am realizing this. Please. I do not wish for you to feel forced or pressured to do  _ anything _ .”

Eli’s confusion grew and he put his wineglass down to stare at Lucien who had leaned back in his seat. He crossed his legs and checked his watch slowly, laughing and sighing with slightly dramatic exhaustion to the tone. “Salem is taking forever with this one. I wonder if she fell asleep…” he drawled. “I may go home myself within the next few minutes anyhow.”

Eli’s brain clicked into place and he shifted in his seat closer to Lucien, “I’ll come with you,” he stated. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but he saw something in the way Lucien’s eyes shifted that something was wrong, deep down. “I’ll come with you.”

Lucien sat a bit more upright, lean brow raising in intrigue, “Please. I have been imposing myself upon you all night and you have been so polite,” he laughed in a mocking manner. “Look at you,” he sighed slowly, “Just a perfect man of God. Sitting in a booth keeping a Satanist company,” he licked his lips and took up the cork.

Eli pushed aside those words, “I may not be an escort for you, but I’ll at least walk you home.”

Lucien wanted to call his bluff.

Eli wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair I warned you all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first original work I have ever posted. I write a lot of them and I doubt it will get much in the way of any reading. But here it is!


End file.
